All of the Past
by Cosmic Castaway
Summary: How did Major Bryce Ferguson save Mitchell’s life?
1. Part 1

**Author Note:** _Well this is my official first Stargate SG-1 FanFic. This story was inspired after watching the episode, Stronghold. My friend **Jessie (Boscogirl)** who is a huge Reed Dimond fan (played on Homicide: Life on the Streets), discussed how cool it would be if they had a little more back history. So thus the idea came up, and with Mitchell still not having that much back history I thought I would give it a shot. The research was excruciating trying to figure out were Mitchell and Ferguson would be in order for Ferguson to save Mitchell. But I like to thank those that took the time and patience to answer all my questions as I came up with the idea!_

**Jamieson** – _God, where do I begin? Thank you so much, for going through and beta reading this for me. You helped me after I butchered the English language and was able to put it back together so thanks! Can't thank you enough!_

**Pairings** – _None_

**Spoilers** – _None that I can think of and if they were, they would be for the episode Stronghold._

**Disclaimer **– _Own none of the characters, and if you sue believe me you'll just get a pissy computer named Ploppy, and a smelly black German shepherd with a quirky personality. Plus dog comes with a cat, beware cat believes to be Queen of the Universe._

_On to the story, enjoy!_

**All of the Past - Part 1**

The twenty-one-gun salute echoed through the entire cemetery as soft, hushed crying could be heard throughout the ceremony. 'Ashes to ashes, dust to dust' were the last words spoken as the coffin began to be lowered into the ground and soon the people standing or sitting began to dissipate, all but one.

A middle-aged man who had been standing further in the back, arms to his side in full dress uniform had finally got enough courage to slowly walk up to the man-made grave. The sudden ball in his throat threatened to make its presence known, but training kicked in and he was able to swallow.

_"I would have done it for anyone." _

Lt. Col. Cameron Mitchell sighed heavily his eyes slowly moving away from the tombstone that seemed to be staring right into his soul, turning it on the outside to be read by everyone. Catching a soaring bird in the sky, gliding in the wind, he wondered if that was how his friend now felt, that he was now free and flying. No longer in pain, or having to worry about his body giving out and betraying him with nothing but agony and suffering.

Then something caught his attention and Mitchell heard the sound of somebody walking up behind him. He lowered his gaze once again to stare at the tombstone of Major Bryce Ferguson. Out of his peripheral vision he saw blonde hair and knew who was standing next to him, with arms behind her, standing at ease. Lt. Col. Samantha Carter.

Carter kept trying to form words in her mouth, trying to find the right way to say how she felt. But what do you say to somebody that has lost a friend and had nothing but guilt over his death? 'Hey, sorry about your friend, but there's nothing you can do now, so get over it' No, that's hardly the right way to approach such a thin and pin-and-needles kind of emotion. So, leaning on the balls of her feet, she simply said,

"Hey."

Never taking his eyes off the gravesite before him, he gave her some acknowledgement by nodding his head. She might not have caught it if she had not allowed her eyes to travel to his face, hoping she could find some emotion or try and read what he was thinking.

"Thought you could use the company," she finished, letting her eyes go back to the grave. Carter had every intention of standing there until nightfall itself fell upon them. She knew what it was like to have the world crash around you and it seemed there was no one there to grasp your hand and pull you back up. Though Mitchell was still fairly new to their team and had not been around as long as Teal'C, Daniel and herself, he was still a good man at heart and deserved to have somebody there for him.

"Thanks."

At first Carter was not even sure Mitchell had spoken until she looked over at him and saw him staring at her. Though his face was set, holding back, his eyes spoke the world to her. Hurt, and confusion were was very evident in his deep blue eyes.

She nodded her head towards the cars, "Come on, I'll buy you a cup of coffee, you look like you need it." She gave a soft smile as she turned around to begin walking; Mitchell took one more glance at the tomb and then proceeded to follow her.

Mitchell stared at the coffee sitting in front of him, trying to will his hand to pick it up and drink it but he could not even muster his body to do that. Carter was sitting in the seat in front of him stirring her coffee, getting the cream to mix evenly. Finally done with this task, she put the spoon on the plate next to the cup and then picked it up and began sipping, watching him.

"Coffee's going to get cold," Sam spoke softly. His eyebrows shot up a hair and then went back down as he nodded his head. Finally he took a sip of his coffee shaking his head as though in agreement with how the brown liquid tasted.

He finally curled his lip, "This coffee is horrible." His bright blue eyes looked up and caught Carter's, which caused a smile to break out on her lips.

"Yeah it does kind of suck."

Moving the coffee cup in his hand back and forth slowly he sighed heavily and finally began speaking finally, "Did you know that if Bryce hadn't gotten hurt, he would probably have my place as the team leader."

"You don't know that, Cam." She shifted in her seat "Unless you can predict the future that I'm unaware of, how do you know that him getting hurt was suppose to be and you were meant to be here with us at SG-1."

Mitchell's eyebrow shot up and then produced a soft nod and a short laugh came out of his lips, "Sometimes I really wish I could."

Samantha Carter took another sip of her coffee, wondering how she could help Mitchell without being too overbearing or putting salt on a wound that was still bleeding furiously. Thus it surprised her because Mitchell beat her to the punch and began talking before she could even think up something to say,

"It happened when we were overseas. Tiny base in Iraq…hot always hot…guess you'd expect that with a desert." He smiled and, looking down at his coffee, took another swig of it, realizing how much time he let pass before he had taken his last drink. The coldness setting into it was fairly evident.

"You had your scares but for the most part, my job was to keep the airspace clear, Bryce sure liked to goof off any chance he got though."

(Iraq – 2002)

Two gray, slick F-16 Fighting Falcon jets flew by the Black Hawk chopper that had just been given clearance to take off. The chopper struggled a few seconds with the turbulence that came suddenly by the two jets streaking by, and which snickering could be heard over in the radio.

"Little bumpy for you back there, Captain?" Mitchell asked over the radio as he glanced over to see Ferguson on his right side.

"Damn hot-shot pilots."

"Ahhh is that anyway to speak to a commanding officer?" Ferguson replied the childish tone in his voice was obvious.

This would not be the first nor the last time Air Force and Army would clash or do something to get under one another's skin. Each branch despised the other, and it was always about who had the bigger guns and who had the more dangerous job.

"No, sir," the Army captain growled under his breath.

"That's what I thought. Try not to crash your Black Hawk into anything, Captain." Ferguson said as he gave the chopper pilot a mock salute with his middle finger the only thing hitting his helmet.

"Now kiddies play nice, be safe and watch out for any flybys." Mitchell spoke, as he made his run one more time lowering his landing gear to get ready to put the jet on the ground.

"Don't you mean, watch out for you two?" The chopper pilot responded with a dry tone.

"Never can be careful with us flying. And just think, they pay us." Ferguson said over the radio as he waited for Mitchell to land his jet, so he could come from behind and do the same procedure.

Mitchell took off his helmet, his sweaty hair pointing in different directions, and began climbing out of the cockpit of the jet as the engines whined down completely. He glanced over as Ferguson stopped his jet and pulled off his oxygen mask. Bryce crossed his eyes when he saw Mitchell was staring at him as he began shutting down the systems of the fighter jet. He then popped the canopy after he was done and climbed down the side of the jet hitting the pavement with a thud.

"Little antsy?"

"Hell yeah, I'm hungry!"

**TBC….**


	2. Part 2

**Author Note:** _Well hello there gang, I want to make the biggest apology for taking so long to post a new chapter. Few things as to why, first off work is trying to kill me and I need the money if I want to take college classes this fall. Second, my beta reader that I dare not continue without has been gone so until she got back I was perfectly comfortable waiting. Thus I'd have more waiting till she got back but that's the third problem, my muse has got muse-napped! It either jumped shipped and is hiding from me, or it got taken. So my conclusion is that it's somewhere buried next to Jimmy Hoffa and till I can find it, I might take a while then again who the hell knows. Again, my sincere apologies for taking so long to come up with a new update. _

_Many thanks goes out **Jamieson**. You are thee most patient person I have ever meet, going and reading my stuff. Thank you sooooooooo much girl, seriously! (hugs) _

_Also thanks to those that reviewed, (hugs goes out to you as well), I'm glad some are enjoying this story!_

**Part 2**

Ferguson sat down at the long table with the other soldiers eating their dinner. He upped his head, giving a soft nod to a fellow soldier as he sat down in front of Mitchell, who was currently to busy ingesting his own food.

"Is it just me, or is this looking more less like food and starting to take on the appearance as dogshit?"

Mitchell glanced up swallowing his food and then his eyes went back down to his plate shrugging his shoulders. "Quit your bellyaching and eat your damn food, if not somebody else will for yah. In fact." Mitchell grabbed the piece of bread sitting on the edge of Bryce's plate.

"Hey!" Bryce griped.

Mitchell shrugged his shoulders, "Well you snooze you lose my friend," he said with a full mouth.

"Nice table manners." Mitchell gave an innocent look as he swallowed the clump of bread down. Usually his table manners were respectful and good as any true southern boy would be. But in the military you got away with a lot of things, and you also picked up some very bad habits as well.

Ferguson began digging into his food when he glanced, just as Mitchell did when one of the Lieutenant Colonel walked by, one who happened to be a female officer. Ferguson let out a low whistle. "Sometimes, I swear man life is not fair, like to see what's…."

But before he could finish that sentence, Mitchell interjected. "Hey, remember she is your superior, I can just see what would happen if the wrong person heard you." Mitchell's eyes glanced around, checking to make sure nobody was eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Yeah, and she can show her superior rank over and over," Ferguson muttered under his breath as Mitchell just shook his head, wondering sometimes about his friend.

Silence passed over the two as they finished eating the food in front of them, before it grew cold and even more unappealing. Mitchell finished his meal and he waited for Ferguson to finish, then got up to throw away his stuff.

"So did you get that 'top secret, tell nobody' letter about new testing technology with jets or something like that?" Ferguson asked as he put his tray down next to the many others in the designated spot. He knew he could trust Mitchell with such a question, for one he had the same clearance and was of the same rank. Second Mitchell was just as good of a pilot as himself so it would only make sense that he would get that same kind of letter.

"Yeah actually I did, about them looking for a squadron leader….Don't tell me, your really thinking they would trust you with new technology of theirs?" Mitchell asked as they exited the lunchroom and made their way towards their sleeping quarters.

"Well I say my odds are good, being they allow you to even fly the jets without having you tied to a rope so you can't go too far."

Mitchell smiled, keeping in step with Bryce. "Well then, it looks like we'll both be fighting for that position, may the best man win." He saw that Ferguson was about to reply and stopped him by speaking up quickly, "And don't say, 'there's no points for second place'."

"Didn't have to, you all ready did." Ferguson smiled, then went into his room and closed the door as Mitchell did the same.

Cameron Mitchell's eyes shot open. Still half asleep, he tried to figure out what woke him up so suddenly. Then it happened, a blast large enough to damn near throw him onto the floor, causing his ears to ring from the explosion.

Scrambling to his feet he began hopping towards the door as he was putting his foot into his fatigues. Grabbing the weapon laying on the dresser he undid the safety and cocked it back, readying the deadly firearm. Nearly bringing the door off its hinges as he opened it he found Ferguson on the opposite side pulling his shirt over his head. He also had his gun in hand, and as he cleared the head hole of the shirt he glanced at Mitchell.

"What the hell is happening?" Ferguson asked as they began jogging down the small hallway, joined by the other men.

"Either we're under attack, or the military found a new wake up call," Mitchell replied.

They made it back to where they had dinner only a few hours ago. The lights were turned off and no visible damage to the area was noticeable. Glancing back, Mitchell found boys who didn't look over eighteen waiting for his or Ferguson's orders. 'When did I suddenly become older then everybody else?'

Mitchell was ready to figure out where and how they were being attacked but he did not want to give orders to boys, didn't want to put them in danger if he could help it. If all were possible he would send them the other way, and jump into the lions den himself in order to protect them. 'Which might not be such a bad idea,' he thought as he glanced at their hands and found most of them was without weapons. 'Did they learn **anything **in basic training?'

"Look, I want you to follow Major Ferguson and go scrap up some armor. I'm going to find were these assholes are coming from, meet me back here in ten minutes."

Mitchell gave no time for Bryce to reject his order, as he turned on his heel and ran towards the exit at the far end of the cafeteria, leading outside. Ferguson, with mouth half open, turned around and glanced at the men looking to him, waiting for his order. He found the highest-ranking officer and told the men to follow that officer to the armory. He then sprinted towards the direction in which Mitchell had disappeared

When he arrived outside he was worried Mitchell would be long gone, but was more than surprise to see him pressed up against the building, looking around the corner. He was studying the situation and trying to figure out his next maneuver before he acted. Ferguson came up behind Cameron, who turned around and looked him up and down, then moved back to glancing around the corner.

"I thought I told them to follow you?"

Ferguson let out and snort, who positioned himself to see what was going on, then turned back around to make sure nobody would come up from behind and attack them.

"Sure and let you have all the fun? Besides I have to watch your ass in case you do something irrational, can't be babysitting a bunch of rookies."

"Well, I'm about to do that irrational, impatient thing that I'm known for."

Ferguson was all most afraid to ask his friend what he had in mind. If there was one thing Mitchell was known for, it was being a bit of a hothead. He did not think of the consequences of his actions, and went by the seat of his pants, so to speak. But with the type of jobs they had, you couldn't stand around and think to long. You had to be quick on your feet, and if you thought to long, you were dead.

Wetting his lips and checking their backs again, he asked the question he feared, "So you going to tell me this great idea?"

"Had no intention of it, but since you kindly asked." Mitchell replied, letting his sense of humor come out to ease his nerves and adrenaline that was surging off the Richter scale.

"They're attacking us from the north, my idea is to come from behind them and attack them that way."

"We should wait, go regroup with our men that way..." but Mitchell cut him off in mid-sentence.

"Why, so they can take out more of us? You can wait, go get them, and meet me there, but I'm not standing around any longer." Mitchell then bolted from his hiding place heading for the fence that surrounded their base.

Ferguson shook his head. "Who does he think he is, Schwarzenegger?" he said out loud as he thought for just one second about going and getting their backup. But then he decided against it. Mitchell would need all the help he could get.

He then pursued his crazy friend.

**TBC…**


End file.
